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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/28802517">Meet Me in Mahdia</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/mkfreckles/pseuds/mkfreckles'>mkfreckles</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>The Old Guard (Movie 2020)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Accidental Sainthood, Alternate Universe, Barbary Crusade, Enemies to Lovers, F/F, First Time, Getting Together, Lykon is already dead, M/M, Mahdia Crusade, Middle Ages, Slow Burn, Undercover Missions, alternate get together</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>In-Progress</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2021-01-17</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2021-02-07</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-13 09:42:21</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Mature</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>Graphic Depictions Of Violence</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>2</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>2,668</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/28802517</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/mkfreckles/pseuds/mkfreckles</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>So while researching Mediterranean piracy for an Old Guard piracy AU, I discovered two things.</p><p>1. There's too much overlap between the slave trade and Mediterranean piracy for a fun Mediterranean pirate AU</p><p>2. in 1390, Genoa (and France) tried to invade the city of Mahdia the Hafsid Caliphate in what is modern day Tunisia in something called the Barbary Crusade/Mahdia Crusade. </p><p>So let's imagine Yusuf and Nicolo parting ways in Jerusalem and meeting each other again for the first time on either side of this farcical attempted invasion that no-one won.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Andy | Andromache of Scythia/Quynh | Noriko, Joe | Yusuf Al-Kaysani/Nicky | Nicolò di Genova</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>4</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>21</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>1. Parting/Meeting</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>I still have lots to learn before writing this completely, (I'm going to list everything I look at in the notes here), but just so everyone knows, the comments made about killing Christ and the Mahdian response are historical verbatim.</p><p>https://erenow.net/postclassical/crusades/594.php</p><p>https://military.wikia.org/wiki/Barbary_Crusade</p><p>https://usacac.army.mil/sites/default/files/documents/cace/CSI/CSIPubs/OP32_Piracy.pdf</p><p>https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Barbary_Crusade</p><p>https://images.library.wisc.edu/History/EFacs/HistCrus/0001/0003/reference/history.crusthree.i0025.pdf</p><p>https://www.liquisearch.com/slavery/history/middle_ages/medieval_europe</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Nicolo di Genova wept when the Genoese contingent reaches Jerusalem. So much of this retched pilgrimage had been stepped in not holy war, but starvation, thirst, chaos, greed, and lies. He knew that he had not suffered as those who walked from Europe to Antioch and keep the city from the Seljuk reinforcements until those who could afford to hire ships arrived. He rejoiced to join the Cult of the Lance, so crucial in their victory, such solid proof of their righteousness. He volunteered to continue on to the Holy Land under the leadership of Raymond of Toulouse, which seemed to take them to city after city for sacking and not their holy mission. Soon the profit of the Lance was proven false by his Trial by Ordeal and Raymond of Toulouse was superseded by Godfrey of Boullion. Godfrey brough them back to path the Pope had sent them on. </p><p><br/>
</p><p>Now they were finally here, ready to avenge to cruelty and injustices of the heathens on their holy altars. Pope Urban’s speech on the horrors meted out to Christians in Jerusalem still made Nicolo shudder, despite the horrors he had seen since leaving his home. You will finally be forgiven, a guilty voice in his head also whispered, for your unholy thoughts and violence since. God forgave violence against the Muslims according to the Holy Father, but Nicolo had also raised hands against his brothers when their appetite for the worst excesses of war extended to women and children. Surely God did not need or want the blood of the Muslim woman and children as well.</p><p><br/>
</p><p>He shook that aside. The site of Christ’s death and resurrection was holy and pure. All the sins leading here would become worth it. They would unite the Heavenly Jerusalem and Jerusalem of Earth. Truly God would make his blessing for their sacrifice known any moment.</p><p><br/>
------<br/>
</p><p>Yusuf Al-Kaysani could only keep the bile of his stomach down because he had not eaten in days. He put aside his astonishment and confusion at not being able to die with his guilt that he had wasted precious time killing and re-killing his Frankish foe outside the gate of the city. The time to deliberate of the meaning of it all would be later. He was here now, wading through ankle deep blood, trying to help any citizen he could find to the chink in the city walls he had found that the Christians had not.</p><p><br/>
</p><p>In his desperate scanning of the ground for still breathing bodies, his shoulder hit another armored shoulder. He yelped and jumped back, scimitar at the ready to hopefully correct his lethal mistake. The crusader he saw did not attack. He too was covered in blood and filth, and was undoubtably alive despite the incredible sight of a sword sticking out from his chest and extending out his back. It was his fellow immortal. He looked dazed, seeming to barely register that Yusuf stood before him. Yusuf took a second to notice that the sword in his chest was a straight Christian longsword. It would appear his enemy had made new enemies. If Yusuf had a moment, he would scream that this man did not deserve to be shocked by his army’s savagery, that he was no better, and that he deserved to spend eternity in hell.</p><p><br/>
</p><p>They were both, however, already there. So, he saved his energy for the men he could kill and left the crusader to deliberate with his God over what this all meant, if it meant anything at all.</p><p><br/>
----------<br/>
</p><p>Yusuf had scoffed at the arrogance of the Mahdian nobility. Everyone could see the invading fleet days away, but they wished to wait and see what the Christians with their French and Genoese flags wanted. They always want the same thing Yusuf thought to spill as much holy blood as possible for their Prince of Peace. The popes on both sides of their current internal squabble had blessed this power-grab masquerading as an antiquated crusade. The ships made their heading on their beaches unopposed. Their harbor was now full on foreboding enemy ships. Surely as city twice invaded by Christians should know better. Quynh did warn him, however, that mortals had short memories about these sorts of things.</p><p><br/>
</p><p>Yusuf had been working his cover in Mahdia for almost a year now. He had the Sultan’s representative in the city’s ear on matters military fortification and diplomacy for their southern and eastern neighbors (he refused to touch the finances of selling human beings, despite hie merchants background). Andromache had warned him that this job would be a long one if it was ever to be successful. The slave trade was the bread and butter of the Barbary states and the core of the nobility’s power. They had had fun attacking Muslim and Christian galley ships alike in the Mediterranean, freeing the slaves below the decks and leaves the slavers to their own rowing as they left, but running a crew and ship was expensive. They depended on the funds they could get from the other precious cargo. It was not a sustainable source of income, nor a very effective way to stop the rampant slave trade of the region. If they could break the beast from the inside, however, they could make a difference. Tunisia hadn’t been Yusuf’s home in centuries, but he appreciated Andromache and Quynh agreeing that the rumors they heard in Kush were bad enough for them to investigate, to move north from Lykon’s homeland and see what they could do.</p><p><br/>
</p><p>They had also been enjoying teasing him about their cover as his wives. It was a ludicrous thing to pretend to command his older sisters, but it was working wonderfully. As a high-ranking mans’ wife, Quynh could collect gossip and intelligence in any harem or well-to-do bathhouse and Andromache said in the local Muslim’s woman’s dress it had never been so easy to carry a sword still wet with the blood after having make a “strategic elimination”.</p><p><br/>
</p><p>Now, his lord commanded that he see what grievance the French had, as they all very well knew what grievance the Genoese had. Their soldiers for Islam as the locals called them, pirates as the Christians called them, had dealt enough blow to the trading nations shipments as of late that is was no mystery that they were there. It was no mystery to Yusuf why the French were there. There never-ending war with the English was currently at a standstill, thus there was an overabundance of knights seeking glory but no-one politically convenient to kill.</p><p><br/>
</p><p>The Mahdian party met the representatives of the invaders halfway between their gates and the beach. Titles and cautious greetings are exchanged. Yusuf notes the Bourbon king’s uncle, Duke Louis II,  was apparently leading the endeavor and the Doge of Genoa has sent  Giovanni Centurione from the recent conquest of the Tunisian island of Djerba. As the moment for the real issue of the tete-a-tete to make way presents itself, an awkward silence fell between the two groups.</p><p><br/>
</p><p>The silence was broken by one of his own party, “You highness, Duke Louis, what troubles does the kingdom of France take with the Hafsid Caliphate? What brings into this natural disagreement among neighbors?”</p><p><br/>
</p><p>The Duke puffed up his chest. His face was patchy red and covered with sweat, vastly overdressed for a North African summer.</p><p><br/>
</p><p>“As Christians loyal to the Holy father” (Which one? Thought Yusuf) “we must always defend” (Invading to defend? These Franks were really not that original.) “Christians on all shores against the unbelievers who crucified and put to death the son of God called Jesus Christ.” (Wait, what?)</p><p><br/>
</p><p>Yusuf had been restraining rolling his eyes, but he could not restrain hysterical laughter at the invaders concluding argument. His fellow party members also started to titter.</p><p><br/>
</p><p>“My lord,” Yusuf stepped out from behind and replied sardonically, “that was the Jews, not the followers of Islam.”</p><p><br/>
</p><p>The Duke’s face was thunderous, his Genoese counterpart unchanged in its’ grimness, their attending soldiers looked confused, but the priest they had brought with them let loose a huff of laughter. Yusuf set his focus on him for the first time. He was tall, pale, and had the most piercing sea glass eyes peeking out from his monks hood. They seemed familiar. As soon as those eyes meet his, however, the slight smile of the priest face froze off. The pit of Yusuf’s stomach fell out. He knew this man. </p><p><br/>
</p><p>It was his Frank, his fellow immortal from the walls of Jerusalem nearly 300 years ago, living, breathing, and invading still.</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0002"><h2>2. Confusions Cleared</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>Author's Note: I am not going to be a regular updater, sorry!</p>
          </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Night had fallen and Yusuf had still not caught his breath. Seeing the crusader, a ghost in the flesh of his past, had set Yusuf back into a panic he hadn’t felt in decades. Andromache and Quynh knew something was wrong when he returned from the unsuccessful diplomatic envoy, but he was so disturbed he couldn’t even speak to them. They knew there was another immortal when they found him in Cairo a few years after the Fall of Jerusalem. They said they found him in the deserts of Cappadocia. They said he wished to be left alone and that he was of no harm to anyone. Yusuf had railed against them, but on this they stood fast. They wouldn’t allow him to hunt him down. He had to put his anger elsewhere. So he took to their mission easily, trying to make the world a better place. They headed south of the Sahara, crossing from Kush to Mali and Timbuktu and back again. They even crossed from Ethiopia to the island of mysteries, Madagascar. His anger lessened as the beauty of the world and the beauty of people become undeniable. He found it best to put that irredeemable Frank in the past where he belonged. </p><p><br/>
</p><p>His sisters, however, had been wrong. He scaled over the city walls and was quietly making his way to the beach-head to find this white-faced monster and bring him to his sisters so they might decide what fate he deserved. He had taken the gift of the last three centuries and learned nothing. The half-moon in the sky was just enough to light his way through the underbrush, the very thorny underbrush. His tunic was stuck. He tugged his body away from the offending branch, but then his foot hooked under a damned root. He tumbled hard to the ground, grunting to keep himself from shouting.</p><p><br/>
</p><p>Not quiet enough though, Yusuf heard a voice from the darkness call out.</p><p><br/>
</p><p>“Who’s there? Who’s there?”, once in Ligurian and once in Arabic.</p><p><br/>
</p><p>Yusuf struggled to get up but the lo-and-behold, the sea-glass eyed priest stepped into his sight. He was out of his robes and dressed in common soldiers garb, including the Genoese cross-bow. Damn it all, Yusuf thought, here he was serving himself up to his enemy on a silver platter. The invader paused as he looked down at him squinting.</p><p><br/>
</p><p>“Is it you? Is it really you?”, the man whispered.</p><p><br/>
“Yes, it’s me”, he returned harshly, freeing his dagger from his side and driving it through the foot closest to his prone body. That bought him time to right himself and unsheathe his scimitar. The Frank stumbled around on one foot, dropping his crossbow to remove the knife. More fool he, thought Yusuf, adjusted his grip to strike.</p><p><br/>
</p><p>Dagger removed, the priest turned back to Yusuf and shocked him completely. He placed the dagger gently on the ground and knelt, making no move to re-arm himself.</p><p><br/>
</p><p>“For years I thought I imagined you” he whispers, staring at Yusuf in wonderment.</p><p><br/>
</p><p>Yusuf lowers his sword at the tenderness in this man’s voice. This makes no sense.</p><p><br/>
</p><p>The invader takes this as permission to continue. He clears his throat, eye now filled with purpose.</p><p><br/>
</p><p>“I never told you my name ….before. I am Nicolo di Genova. My comrades know me as Father Nikoli.”</p><p><br/>
</p><p>His comrades centers Yusuf’s mind back to his original purpose. This man, this fellow immortal and eternal damn crusader named by his bastard father Nicolo di Genova continues; </p><p><br/>
</p><p>“I wish to speak with you on our condition, but first I must amends, if you wish to hear them” he gulps “….. for the harm I did to you and your homeland.”</p><p><br/>
</p><p>	Yusuf’s laugh is hysterical. This is unbelievable.</p><p><br/>
</p><p>He turns from the supplicant man to seemingly shout at the heavens, “You wish to apologize for the Crusades?! Which one? There were 9 by last count!”</p><p><br/>
</p><p>“The first, I never fought in them again, I tried to convince my people that it was folly…..”</p><p><br/>
</p><p>“Never fought in them……what the fuck are you doing here then?</p><p><br/>
</p><p>“I’m not here to fight Islam..”</p><p><br/>
</p><p>“Any idiot can tell that’s not why you fuckers are here for, not ever what you were fighting for”</p><p><br/>
</p><p>“My goals are not the same as…. ”</p><p><br/>
</p><p>“So you going to what? ‘try to convince them of their folly’? Pray to your apathetic God as my people burn …again?!”</p><p><br/>
</p><p>Finally losing his temper, Di Genova stands and shouts, “Your people are slavers!”</p><p><br/>
</p><p>Yusuf is startled into silence. He almost forgot the ills of 1390, stuck in the ills of 1099.</p><p><br/>
</p><p>Di Genova collects himself and continues, “Not during the Crusades, not the same, not in any way the kingdoms of Christ weren’t. But in this century, you must see, the pirates coming from this city take more than gold and goods, they’re taking people. That is not why my comrades have come here, it is true that it’s the same gold and glory it’s always been. The church has banned slavery, though, so when the city is taken, the enslaved will be freed and then I can convince my Duke and maybe this Bourbon king the help return them to their homelands.”</p><p><br/>
</p><p>“You’re here to fight the slave trade?” Yusuf asks flatly.</p><p><br/>
</p><p>“Yes”, Di Genova replies with confusion, “Why did you think I was here?”</p><p><br/>
</p><p>Yusuf raises an eyebrow.</p><p><br/>
</p><p>The memory of their last meeting before the fall of Jerusalem must have returned to the man memory as his face fell.</p><p><br/>
</p><p>Yusuf decides to speak before the man can try to apologize again. He’s not sure he is ready to hear anything of the sort.</p><p><br/>
</p><p>“You church had banned slavery among Christians, not every enslaved person behind these walls is Christian.” He says with disapproval at this half-measure that would certainly lead to a violent occupation.</p><p><br/>
</p><p>In the moonlight, Yusuf can make-out a flicker of confusion cross the pale face across from him. His shoulder tense, his stomach drops out as he realizes what he must look like from Di Genova’s perspective.</p><p><br/>
</p><p>“Wait”, he says putting his hands on his hips, “Why do you think I am here?”</p><p><br/>
</p><p>Di Genova waves a vague hand towards the city walls in the distance.</p><p><br/>
</p><p>“It’s your home, isn’t it?” he responds quietly.</p><p><br/>
</p><p>“Yes” Yusuf says carefully controlling his disgust at the understandable mistake. “My home overrun with cruel and greedy lords taking advantage of cruel and greedy soldiers, taking both Christians, Muslims and any innocent soul they can get their hands on to row their galleys and make them rich. Andromache, Quynh and I, you remember Andromache and Quynh, right? I know you met them?”</p><p><br/>
</p><p>“Yes” Di Genova says faintly.</p><p><br/>
</p><p>“We’re not satisfied with just freeing the Christians and turning over everyone else to new overlords or worse. We’re working a mission right now to bring this trade to it’s knees” he finishes.</p><p><br/>
</p><p>“I believe everyone should be free as well, slavery is unholy for all, it’s just…”Di Genova starts and stops.</p><p><br/>
“Just what?”</p><p><br/>
</p><p>“I didn’t know how, I don’t know how to help them all. I only hoped to help a the few I knew I could”</p>
<p>
  <br/>
</p><p>His voice is broken and dejected. Yusuf can only imagine. He been alone for so long. What could one man hope to do alone?</p>
<p>
  <br/>
</p><p>“My name is Yusuf Al-Kaysani”</p><p><br/>
</p><p>This is not forgiveness, but no-one deserves to be so alone.</p>
  </div></div>
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